


Sway

by dayindisguise



Series: Double Take [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Implied Same-Sex Marriage, M/M, Post-SCOTUS ruling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayindisguise/pseuds/dayindisguise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: While being hit on by another man, Arthur gets him to back off by pointing out/dragging Eames into it and claiming him as his boyfriend. After which awkwardness ensues, on Arthur’s side at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quinnster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinnster/gifts).



> For my bae, Quinn.
> 
> This series consists of two interpretations of the same prompt. The prompts will involve the same pairing, but no discussion is to be had on the content. 
> 
> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4242378) for Eames' perspective.
> 
>  
> 
> * This piece is a subtle reference and celebration of the 2015 SCOTUS ruling that legalized Same-Sex marriage in all 50 states. There's still a long way to go in terms of Human Rights, but this is a step in the right direction.

Ariadne’s smile was dazzling in the strobing lights that fell over them, amidst the throngs of sweat-sheened bodies around them. She was breathless, beautiful, and Arthur wished with all of his might that his life had been easier. If he could have just tucked her under his arm, if they could have run off together. Happily ever after, starring Arthur and Ariadne, featuring white picket fence and 2.5 children. She clung to his fingers as she danced, and Arthur did his best to force the thoughts from his mind. Someone would come along one day and make him feel the way she looked.

The white of her dress contrasted heavily with the darker-clothed bodies around her, the vivid colours cast by the lights making her a rainbow of pure happiness. Ariadne seemed like she would burst at any moment if she beamed any brighter, and Arthur thought for a moment that he should back away when he saw hands snake around her petite waist. Devon, the avidly-proclaimed love of Ariadne’s life, pressed in close to her partner and gave Arthur a toothy grin, one that said ‘Thanks for watching my lady’, to which Arthur could only nod and smile.

At one point, Arthur thought maybe they could be together, both he and Ariadne sharing the cramped space in the closet, pinky fingers linked in secret solidarity. If they just stayed in the dark for a while longer, if nothing ever brought them out, they could just live together with their white picket fence, 2.5 children: perfect in the eyes of their families. Ariadne had always been brave, far more so than Arthur; it was only right that she would be getting married first. Her white dress, her fiancée’s white attire, both bathed in the rainbow lights of the club, they were her reward for being courageous. Ariadne basked in the glow of the club, and Arthur swayed his hips like it wasn’t killing him just a little bit.

His fingers were soon parted from Ariadne’s, her small hands resting over her fiancée’s where they joined low on her stomach, and Arthur took this as his cue to break for the bar. He certainly needed a drink at this point, something that would kick him into high gear, into celebrating instead of wallowing in his inward self-pity. He lowered the shot glass back down to the bar, fireball bitter at the back of his throat, when the bartender swept over with a freshly made drink, and pointed at a man down the far side of the bar. “From that guy,” the bartender said with little to no enthusiasm, and quickly loped off to another bustling bridal party.

The bar had been busier than ever with its queer community celebrating the human-rights victory, even though the victory had come in New York years earlier. The poor bartender looked overworked, and like he needed a shot or five to combat the constant thudding of the bass in his ears.

Arthur looked down to the drink, and up to the grinning man at the end of the bar, slightly put off by the distance between them… but Arthur wasn’t going to be choosy with his alcohol. A drink was a drink. He sipped, and apparently that was a call for company. The man edged closer, and Arthur found his space more invaded than ever when a thick, damp body sidled up against his. “Having a good night?” The man attempted to purr, using the loud music as an excuse to huff his whiskey breath into Arthur’s ear. 

Immediately, Arthur found himself setting down the drink, his upper lip lifting into barely veiled disdain. “I’m just here for my friend,” He said, not turning his head toward the other man, and pushing the drink further into the bar, away from his fingers. He’d probably have needed that drink if he was going to put up with the man leaning into him all night. That, however, was not something Arthur was interested in.

“How about you and I go dance? You look like you got some moves,” the man’s breath was thick, and Arthur felt like it was coating his skin where his breath settled.

“I’m not really in the mood to dance right now… I just wanted to take a little break—it’s hot out there, you know?” Arthur tried to laugh, hoping the man would get the message, sympathize a little, anything to give him some space. If anything, it just brought the man’s attention more thoroughly to Arthur.

“I’ll just keep you company then, until you feel like dancing.”

Arthur regretted his earlier thoughts, his self-pity, his longing for someone to complete him. If this was a sign, it was a strong recommendation for him to get his shit together. Arthur was about to open his mouth, to politely suggest the guy back off, to give him some space, when Arthur found a solution to his problems… at the other end of the bar.

The Englishman was watching him from further down, toothpick hanging over plush lips as he swirled something in a short glass. Arthur lifted his brows when he made eye contact, gave a slight shake of his head, and attempted to urge the man to come to his aid. Eames seemed overly pleased with Arthur’s situation, lifted his own brows as if to say, ‘Pardon? What did you want me to do?’. Arthur’s brows lifted further, his expression pitiful, pleading, lips curved downward in a frown. He would be more likely to regret this later, asking Eames to bail him out… but his options weren’t plentiful. Arthur exhaled in relief when he watched Eames move from his place at the bar, and stride over to where Arthur was standing.

“Do you mind, mate? He’s here with me,” Eames tapped Whiskey-breath on the shoulder and spoke loud enough for Arthur to hear. The man seemed to size Eames up, taking in his slightly odd style, the crisp nature of his clothes, and slurred a response with a look of displeasure on his face, “There’s no way he’s here with you… have you seen him? Tight piece of ass like that? ‘Sides… he took my drink, said he’d dance with me.”

Eames looked to Arthur, who offered a smile that was just slightly tinged with guilt. Sure, Arthur had sipped the drink, but he hadn’t expected the man to mosey on over with his ratty jeans and highly-flammable breath.

“Look, mate,” Eames started again, setting a thick hand on the man’s shoulder, “He’s here with me. I don’t know how else to pu-”

Arthur was the one who moved this time, turning in his seat and putting himself in front of Eames. It may have been the single shot of whiskey that made him brave, or the threat of spending more time with Whiskey-breath, but Arthur pressed his mouth to Eames’. In his mind, this was the best way to… ‘prove’ that he was with Eames.

The Englishman was taken aback for a long moment, and Arthur was left floundering in the one-sided kiss, long fingers resting against the stubble of Eames’ cheek. The thin man had been about to pull away when a strong arm wound around his waist, leaving the intoxicated man’s shoulder in favour of holding Arthur’s body closer to his. Whiskey-breath got the memo, and as if to spite Arthur, took the drink he had bought back with him.

When Arthur pulled from the kiss, he felt a little light-headed, his lips tingling from the pressure of Eames’ mouth. “Thanks,” was the first thing Arthur could say, followed by, “I owe you one.”

Eames’ arm was still wrapped around his waist, though it had eased a little, letting Arthur put a little space between them. “Yeah, you do,” Eames answered with his trademark grin, one that always had Arthur a little pink in the cheeks. He was glad the lights reached all over the bar, or else the red of his face would have been clear as day. At least this way, he could blame it on the flashing hues.

This close to Eames, Arthur wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. His fingers were still on Eames’ cheek, his eyes moving from plush lips back to meet Eames’ gaze. There was something in kissing Eames that made him feel alive, made him want more. Arthur wasn’t sure if it was the single shot of whiskey, if he was really that much of a lightweight, or if it was something else, but he was finding it hard to tear himself away from the other man.

“Uhh…” he started, dumbly, and was almost relieved when no words followed. Eames met his gaze, eyes crinkled with his smile, and shook his head fondly.

“You do have a way with words, don’t you?” He asked, head tilting slightly as his other broad hand settled on Arthur’s hip.

“Sure do,” Arthur responded quickly, as if that would make the situation less awkward. Boxed in by Eames’ arms now, Arthur felt like he should have been more nervous. It was rare that he was in this situation, pressed against a man he somewhat knew, against a man he was more than somewhat attracted to. He had no idea how to move on from there, how to excuse himself from Eames’ embrace, if he even wanted to.

Eames seemed to take pity on him, his smile still warm and soft. He drew his arms back from Arthur’s sides, but instead of breaking contact completely, he clasped Arthur’s hand in his own, and drew the man out to the dance floor.

“You can be eloquent later,” Eames teased him, immersing the two of them back into the ground of people, both of their bodies highlighted by the full spectrum of colours. Arthur found himself pressed close to Eames, the man’s broad chest against his back, arms not caging him in but offering a space for Arthur to feel safe in. Eames wasn’t going to do anything he didn’t want, Arthur knew that much, and it didn’t hurt to be lost in the colours and sounds of the club with him. Arthur let himself go in those moments, pressed back into Eames and swayed his hips to the beat of the song. His arms were out, moving in a motion he thought was appropriate, fingers soon caught by smaller ones. Ariadne had found him, pinky fingers linked together, Devon still dancing happily behind the rainbow bride-to-be.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad night after all, Arthur thought to himself as he cast a glance behind, spying Eames’ face over his shoulder, bright and brilliant with his crooked smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://dayindisguise.tumblr.com/)!


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